


Icarus Removals: No Job Too Big or Too Small

by Jenny_Starseed



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenny_Starseed/pseuds/Jenny_Starseed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is awoken by a man who has a crusading desire to correct false and misleading advertising wherever he goes.  </p><p>The most obvious Souvenir Program crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icarus Removals: No Job Too Big or Too Small

**Author's Note:**

> None of the characters are mine. They all belong to John Finnemore. Any recognizable dialogue from the Souvenir Program also belongs to John Finnemore. 
> 
> Unbeta-ed. Original prompt here: http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/3282.html?thread=4092626#cmt4092626

Martin peered at the small smug man from his front door. Why couldn’t he call like normal clients? It was 6am for God’s sake. 

“Um, yes,” replied Martin groggily. “Did you want to something moved?”

“Yes,” said the man. “You see, I have a killer whale that I want moved from SeaWorld Bristol to Edinburgh Zoo.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “B-but you need a specialized transport vehicle for that! It needs strictly temperature controlled salt water tank and some very specialized paper work. You need animal control experts and neither I nor my van is qualified to transport a killer whale.”

The man held up his finger and wagged it, readying himself for a self-satisfied lecture. “But your sign said no job too big or too small!”

“Yes, but when I said that I didn’t mean it to include the illegal transport of a whale,” said Martin peevishly. “Why are you bothering me? Don’t you have other people to harass at 6am? I have a very important flight this afternoon and I need my—“

The man cut him off. “But it’s hardly a bother since there’s no job too big for you!”

“But within reason!” cried Martin. “I told you I’m hardly qualified for such a specialized job. You need a specialist for that job.”

“No, I don’t need a specialist because I don’t have a killer whale,” said the little man.

Martin frowned. “Is this a practical joke? Did Douglas pay you to do this?”

“No one needs to pay me when I have a crusading desire to correct false and misleading advertising wherever I go!”

“Douglas did pay you to do this, didn’t he?” accused Martin. Douglas could be the only explanation for this small red faced man harassing him about delivering a non-existent killer whale. 

“So will you amend your sign?” asked the man.

“No! Sod off you....you mean little man!” Martin blurted angrily. “I am an airline captain and I have very important things to do this morning that don’t include transporting hypothetical whales.”

“So I take it that you’re not going to amend your sign to read ‘some jobs too big!’?”

“I can call the police for harassment and trespassing if you don’t leave right now.”

“But I do have a job for you,” said the man.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

The man smiled indulgently. “A real job.”

Martin pinched the bridge of his nose. He only had a bouillon cube and some wilted cabbage in the kitchen for breakfast today. Martin was really desperate enough to take a job from literally anybody right now. This included smug men in ill-fitting suits who ring his doorbell at 6am to make a grandiose statement about his advertising practises.

Martin sighed. “Ok. What is it?” 

“I want you to transport a packet of crisps.”

“Is that all?”

“No job too small,” said the man.

What the hell, thought Martin. He wouldn’t lose anything if he accepted this hypothetical job. Anything to get the man off his doorway. 

“Ok, where from?”queried Martin.

The man handed him a packet of crisps with an address taped to the front. It was only ten minutes away. Well, if the man was serious, Martin might as well give him a special price for effectively raising his blood pressure at 6am before his morning coffee. He grabbed his keys.

“Alright, that will be 300 quid. Cash.”


End file.
